


Here Be Monsters

by SkylandMountain1013



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Early Days, F/M, Gen, XF Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 20:18:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5553905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylandMountain1013/pseuds/SkylandMountain1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scully finds herself beginning to play a role in his fascination. She buys him a keychain with a Skunk Ape on it at a rest stop outside of Miami, and finds herself getting excited when research on a case about occult activity in Ohio turns up an old newspaper clipping about the Loveland Frog. </p>
<p>Originally written for the XF Secret Santa on tumblr, for a recipient who liked Mulder and Mythology.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Be Monsters

He thumbs through the postcards arranged on the rack in front of him, corners damp with humidity. Even with the air conditioner pumping full blast, the heavy heat of a South Carolina August permeates every inch of the atmosphere. Finding what he’s looking for, he quickly grabs the necessary road provisions (a bag of sunflower seeds for him, and a Diet Coke for Scully) and nods to the cashier as she swipes his credit card. 

Scully reaches for the drink as soon as Mulder sits down, and the bottle is half empty before he can get the car started. She holds the bottle against her neck, enjoying it’s momentary relief from the outside conditions. “What took you so long in there?”

He hands her the paper bag from his lap as he turns back onto the interstate. She pulls out the postcard and reads it aloud. “Don’t let de Hag ride ya.”

“It’s talking about the Boo Hag.”

“A Boo Hag?”

Mulder nods and cracks a seed between his teeth. “South Carolina folklore says that the Boo Hag uses a person’s breath as energy– much like a vampire would use blood. But unlike vampires, the Boo Hag doesn’t kill their prey. They leave them in a trace like state until morning, when they wake up with no recollection of the night before.”

“And you needed to purchase a picture of this why? Mulder, we’re not actually here to chase a breath stealing monster, are we?”

“Technically, most American mythological creatures aren’t monsters. They cause little harm to humans or other animals. For instance the Golden Bear in Kansas was actually revered by the Shawnee tribe, and the Axehandle Hound exists only to consume the handles of axes left behind in the forests of Minnesota.”

Scully grabs a handful of seeds from his bag. “You haven’t answered my question.”

He shakes his head. “No. We are not here to catch the Boo Hag.” He takes the postcard from her and curls it gently into the cupholder. “Having keepsakes of these folkloric tales is important. It keeps us connected to our ancestors, and the things that have come before us.” He gestures to the cupholder and it’s contents. “Without remembering things like this, these tales would be reduced to Hollywood versions of King Kong and Teen Wolf.”

She finishes off her drink and takes the postcard back, smoothing it against her thigh. The dark eyes of the Boo Hag stare back up at her. 

* * *

Scully finds herself beginning to play a role in his fascination. She buys him a keychain with a Skunk Ape on it at a rest stop outside of Miami, and finds herself getting excited when research on a case about occult activity in Ohio turns up an old newspaper clipping about the Loveland Frog. 

They stand in a Barnes and Noble in Eastern New Jersey and she points out a book about The Jersey Devil. He shakes his head. “Too well known. Besides,” he says with a sad smile, “We cracked that case.”

A brightly colored book catches her eye from across the way in the children’s section. She wanders over to take a look and returns, book hiding behind her back. He’s engrossed in a magazine about recent Bigfoot sightings and she taps him on the shoulder to get his attention. 

When he looks up she presents her find to him. “How about ‘Hoppie the Sea Serpent’ then?” 

“It’s the wrong shade of blue,” he mutters. But his eyes are bright as he takes the book up to the register. 

* * *

It’s the Monday after Christmas and he’s already in the office when she walks in. She slides behind him to put her jacket down and drops a neatly wrapped package on his desk. 

He looks up at her with amusement. “Are we at the gift giving point in our partnership?” His eyes are a mixture of teasing and grateful. She actively works at keeping the blush from creeping up her cheeks. 

“It’s nothing special.”

He tears through the paper and examines the book that has been revealed.  _From Sea to Shining Sea: A Treasury of American Folklore and Folk Songs._ There’s a note scrawled on the first page. 

_Here be monsters. Prove them wrong. -Scully._


End file.
